


Adventures in Babysitting

by sara_holmes



Series: Puzzle Pieces [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, Arto gets in trouble, Babysitting, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Kid!Fic, M/M, Overprotective, Parent Steve Rogers, Parent Tony Stark, Parent-Child Relationship, lots of trouble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:15:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6840439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sara_holmes/pseuds/sara_holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arto Rogers has a knack for going out and attracting, causing, finding and involving himself in various degrees of trouble. Steve handles this with fortitude and dignity, except for that he really doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Adventures in Babysitting

**Author's Note:**

> The result of the live-writing sessions, and meets several prompts that people left me on Tumblr! (And I am trying to proof read while very high on painkillers for my back, sorry about the typos.)

“Steve. Can I go to the store with Clint?”

At the sound of the voice that is by now as familiar as his own heartbeat, Steve  _ hmms  _ vaguely and looks up from his book, blinking as he comes nose to nose with Arto who is right there, pleading expression firmly in place. His arms are spread wide with a hand braced on each arm of the chair, and if he tips forwards much more he’s going to slip and headbutt Steve right in the face.

“Personal space, Art,” he says wearily, though he can’t help but smile. “We talked about this.”

Arto just leans forwards even further so their foreheads are touching. “Can I go to the store with Clint?” he repeats. “Please. Steve, please?”

Steve thinks about it for a moment and then nods. Arto yelps with excitement and jumps back, bouncing happily with his hands stretched up above his head. Steve shakes his head fondly and puts his book down on the coffee table. “Alright, let’s go,” he says, planting his hands on the arms of his chair and making to get up.

“No,” Arto says, shaking his head violently, arms still stretched up above his head. “I go with Clint.”

Steve stops, still braced to push himself up. “You want to go without me?” he hears himself ask, and he knows he’s telegraphing just how bewildered he is through the tone of his voice. Damn. Arto still spends most of his time glued to Steve’s side, and to suddenly hear that he wants to go somewhere  _ without him _ -

Well, ouch.

“I go with Clint,” Arto says, and he rushes forwards and clambers onto Steve’s knee. “Just for a minute. You can stay here and I’ll be back in a minute.”

Nope, Steve thinks. Absolutely not. Arto leaving the building without him or Tony? Not a chance.

His face must show what he’s thinking because Arto looks utterly dismayed. “Please,” he says, hands resting on Steve’s shoulders. “Please. Dad.”

“You know you can’t go without me,” Steve says. “What if something happens?”

He stops himself talking, regretting it the moment the words are out of his mouth, because he’s not supposed to say anything that could make Arto feel vulnerable or scared. Arto doesn’t seem remotely worried by the prospect of something happening though, and is already moving onto his next argument.

“Bucky,” he says earnestly, and he must be desperate to go if he’s willing to use Bucky as his ace. “Bucky’s coming.”

Okay. Well Bucky is certainly enough to protect Arto, and with Clint as well he’d probably be fine.

Still, Steve shakes his head. “No.”

“That’s not fair,” Arto whines, slumping back dramatically. Steve hastily catches hold of his wrist to stop him tipping out of his lap, slowing his descent and lowering carefully Arto to the floor. “You said everyone will look after me, and Bucky is strong, and I’ll be like  _ one minute _ .”

“I said no.”

“No,” Arto insists. One of his heels thumps back against the floor and Steve sends him a warning look. Arto stops kicking but carries on whining. “Please. I’ll be good.”

Steve sighs, rubbing at his forehead with his fingers. “Another day,” he tries, but Arto is shaking his head violently.

“Today, Clint said I could come today, he’s going  _ now  _ and he’ll go without me.”

“Well, why can’t I come?”

“No,” Arto repeats, dragging the word out into multiple syllables. He rolls over onto his front, pillowing his face in his arms. “You’re not fair, Steve. You  _ never  _ let me go outside.”

“Liar,” Steve tells him flatly, and then sighs and picks up his phone. He ignores Arto’s whining and muttering and calls Tony, hoping he’s not too wrapped up with his work at the Baxter Building-

“Light of my life, my gorgeous hunk of All-American man-muscle, my better half, what can I do for you?” Tony answers, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Stop.”

“I’m being nice, why won’t you let me be nice?”

“Arto wants to go to the store with Clint,” Steve says, not rising to the bait. “Without me.”

“He wants to go without you?” Tony asks, sounding surprised. “Wow. Call the press. Revolutionary. Should we mark this on the calendar?”

“I said no,” Steve tells him. Down by his feet, Arto lets out an unhappy wail, muffled in his arms. He ruins it somewhat by peeking up to see if Steve is watching him, burying his face back in his arms when he’s sure he’s still got a captive audience.

“Of course you did,” Tony says. “Did he accept that decision with respect and fortitude?”

“He did not,” Steve sighs. “He says Bucky’s going as well.”

There’s a pause. Steve lets it stretch out, letting Tony think. He’s not Arto’s only parent after all; he’s not the only one who gets to make these decisions.

“Just to the store,” Tony finally says. “And Barnes and Barton are both going?”

“You want me to say yes,” Steve says quietly. Arto’s head snaps up, eyes suddenly wide and hopeful.

“Can’t keep him next to you forever,” Tony says reasonably. “Come on. If we trust anyone it’s those two. And no, I can’t believe the words I’m saying, but yeah. I think they can handle it. And I know you’re going to be secretly upset that he doesn’t want you to come as well, so I’m going to wrap up and come home.”

For once, Steve accepts the show of support without denial or argument. “Thank you,” he says.

“On the way,” Tony replies, and the call cuts out.

“Can I go?” Arto asks hopefully. “Did Tony say I can go? I can go, right? I’ll be good, and I’ll be like five minutes.”

“It was one minute a minute ago,” Steve says, turning his phone over and over in his fingers.

“Well, five,” Arto says. “Maybe ten. Maybe like, sixteen. Or a hundred?”

“You can have as long as it takes to get there and back - Arto,  _ wait!” _

He’s barely halfway through the sentence when Arto shrieks with delight, scrambling to his feet with little to no finesse and staggering towards the door. He stops at Steve’s shout though, looking at him beseechingly.

“Please, please, please,” he chants.

“I said yes, just wait,” Steve says, and gets up. He holds out his hand and Arto is there immediately, letting Steve pick him up and swing him onto his hip. “If you go,” he says slowly as Arto nods vigorously. “You hold Clint or Bucky’s hand the whole time.”

“Sir yes sir,” Arto says.

“I mean it,” Steve insists.

“I will, I will, I promise. Like this,” Arto says, demonstrating by holding his own hands together, grasping tightly. “Clint’s hand.”

Steve would honestly prefer Bucky, because with a decent tug Arto could yank Clint over, but he knows Arto is still a little sketchy about Bucky, and is not a fan of the metal arm or hand.

“Okay,” he says. “If you break the rule, you aren’t going out tomorrow at all. Not even to the roof garden. And no Omari to play, either.”

“Okay okay, can I go now?” Arto says, impatient.

“Yeah, I guess you can,” Steve says, because he can’t think of anymore objections, and to change his mind and say no now would possibly - definitely - bring on a tantrum. “I’m taking you to Clint and Bucky though so they know the rule too."

Suddenly, Arto leans in and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck. “I come back,” he says like a promise, and Steve feels his heart break a little. It’s just like the way he promised Arto he’d come back. “I’ll come back, I promise,” Arto says. “Come back for you.”

“Alright, as long as you do,” Steve says with a smile that he hopes is stronger than he feels. “Let’s go find your shoes.”

 

* * *

“Last time I let him go…” Steve trails off, staring down at his knees. He rests his elbow on the edge of the workbench, rubbing at the cleft between his eyebrows.

“Last time he was kidnapped by Hydra and we had a pretty shitty day all round,” Tony says evenly. “The odds of that happening again are pretty low. He’ll be fine.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t, alright?” Tony says a little shortly. “But I have to believe that he will be, or I’m going to lose it.”

Steve looks up at that. Tony is standing in front of his workstation, fiddling with something impossibly small. He’s focussing on it with a look of single minded intent, which Steve recognises as classic distraction.

He gets up, walks behind Tony and slides his hands onto his hips, thumbs brushing soft leather of his belt. He presses his mouth to the side of Tony’s neck and Tony sighs contently, lowering his own hands. “Are you trying to seduce me to distract you from worrying?”

“No,” Steve says. “I just feel better when I’m with you.”

“Sap,” Tony says, but he reaches up and behind him, sliding his hand onto the back of Steve’s neck. “You’re really not?”

“Well, I suppose if we’re letting him go places without us, we might actually get to have sex,” Steve says thoughtfully, and feels Tony laugh.

“Call me when you’re able to let him go for more than fifteen minutes, then,” he says. “Making it quick is getting boring.”

“Duly noted,” Steve says, and then abandons all pretense of being calm. “How long have they been? Damn, I should have put trackers on them.”

“They already have trackers,” Tony says, picking up his tiny piece of tech again. “Would we be terrible parents if we put a tracker on Arto?”

“Probably,” Steve says, sliding his arms all the way around Tony’s waist, pressing closer to his back. He can smell metal and solder and the warmth of Tony’s skin. “I vote yes.”

Tony snorts. “You know if we did, he’d throw it back in our faces when he hit teenage years.”

“He is never going to be a teenager, he is going to be seven forever,” Steve says. “I was an awful teenager. Never got the growth spurt I was waiting on and was a bit of a bitch about it.”

“Well, he’s already super-soldiered so he won’t have that problem,” Tony says, and then lowers his hands again, looking slightly put-out. “Hey, can you stop being all over dramatic and irrational? You’re making me be the voice of reason and that’s just wrong.”

Steve pulls a face, hooking his chin over Tony’s shoulder. “Still can’t get over the fact he wanted to go without me.”

“I know,” Tony soothes, putting a hand over Steve’s. “I get it, alright.”

And the simple fact that Tony does understand makes it easier. He’s not alone in his worry and anxiety, he’s not the only one who’s going through this.

And he’s not the only one who dives for the elevator the moment Jarvis tells them that the boys are back, either.

* * *

 

 

After the first successful trip out without him, Steve does relax a little. As long as Bucky is there too, he slowly becomes more used to the idea of letting Arto go places without him. Just trips to the store, or a walk around the park, or going out to Westchester to visit Omari and the others. That’s a trip that requires Tony to go as well though, because Steve has experienced Bucky and Clint’s driving first hand and isn’t ashamed to admit that he doesn’t trust them to drive Arto anywhere. Nor does he trust the statistics that conclude that  _ he’s  _ actually the one with the worst driving record out of everyone. Most of the vehicles he’s wrecked were wrecked on purpose, so it doesn’t count.

However, when Tony is the one to suggest that they go away for a  _ whole night  _ and leave Arto with Bucky and Clint, his over-protective streaks kicks back in with a vehement “hell no.”

Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on which way he looks at it - Tony is very persuasive. And has a point about the fact that Arto won’t even be leaving the tower while they’re gone, so has the backup of Jarvis as well. Even Natasha agrees to stay. His resolve weakens at that, and by the time Tony is promising him filthy hotel-sex, he’s all but given in.

When they actually leave, he’s fairly okay about it until they get to the hotel. It’s when he sees their suite with the one bedroom and it hits him that Arto is not going to be next door for the night that he cracks.

“Calling Arto,” he says the moment that Tony is closing the door behind them, tossing his bag onto the bed and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He sits on the edge of the bed and calls Clint.

“Well, you managed four hours,” Tony says, following him in and setting his own bag down. “Damn. Now I owe Natasha fifty dollars.”

Steve’s mouth falls open in affront, but he doesn’t have time to chew Tony out for betting on him because the call is connecting and a familiar blond face is grinning at him from the screen.

“Steve!”

“Hey,” Steve says, feeling ridiculously relieved. It’s so stupid and he knows it; he’s been apart from Arto for longer at home, and he knows full well Arto is still in the tower. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Arto says, seeming unconcerned and oblivious to Steve’s turmoil. “We’re eating cake.”

“Don’t tell him I’m feeding you cake for lunch!” a voice hisses from the background.

Arto looks away from the screen, up at who Steve can only presume is Clint. “Okay,” he says and then looks at Steve. “I’m not eating cake for lunch.”

“We’ll let you off,” Tony says, coming to sit next to Steve. “You all behaving?”

“Yes,” Arto says. The phone tilts so all they can see is his Darth-Vader t-shirt, and then there’s a flurry of movement, the view tilting all over the place.

“You’re giving us motion sickness, Smart Art,” Tony complains.

“Going to the roof!” Arto’s voice shouts, as they’re treated to a wildly sweeping view of the television and couches. “Bucky, wait!”

His face comes back into view. “Can I go? I’ll go, I’ll be back soon-”

He presses a kiss to the screen, there’s another wild jostling and then Clint comes into view. He grins ruefully. “He’s fine,” he says. Behind him, the room is empty. “You want me to get him to call you before bedtime?”

There’s a bit of a  _ ‘we’ve got this, stop hovering, don’t call us back until later,’ _ in Clint’s tone, but he’s looking understanding about it. Steve nods, but it doesn’t stop him feeling oddly despondent.

“You got it,” he says, and Clint salutes and ends the call. Steve stares at the blank screen for a moment, and then Tony reaches over and snatches the phone from him, tossing it away across the bed.

“I know,” he says without preamble. “It’s dumb, but I miss him too.”

Steve just nods. “I hate feeling like this,” he admits. “Never thought I would feel like this.”

“You’re a good dad, Rogers,” Tony says, reaching up and stroking a hand over Steve’s forehead, fingertips trailing through his hair and down behind his ear.

“You’re better.”

“Well, duh, yeah,” Tony says with feigned seriousness and an over exaggerated roll of his eyes. “I’m like a solid ten out of ten, you are quite clearly a four, maybe a five on a good day-”

Steve can’t help it; he starts to laugh, leaning over and kissing Tony gently. He’s going to pull back but Tony catches his jacket in his hand and keeps him close, kissing him again.

“Oh?” Steve murmurs against his mouth.

“Hours before we need to be anywhere,” Tony says between kisses. “Hours.”

“What shall we do with the time?” Steve says, and laughs again as Tony makes a disgruntled noise and fists both hands in his jacket, rolling back onto the bed and pulling Steve with him.

 

* * *

The trip goes without a hitch. As does the one they take a few weeks after that - still only for one night but without quite as much fretting on Steve’s part. In fact, Steve is at the point where he doesn’t even bat an eyelid when Clint and Bucky take Arto out for lunch or for pancakes or ice-cream or various other sugar-based foodstuffs. Tony even starts to  _ suggest _ they take Arto out, to give him and Steve a break.

And of course, that’s when everything starts to go wrong.

* * *

 

 

Steve thinks nothing of it when Tony’s phone rings over on the other side of the gym. He’s lying on his back on the padded rest of the bench press, about to start his tenth and final set when Tony’s voice cuts through the peace and quiet, loud and shocked.

“What do you  _ mean  _ he’s been arrested?”

Steve goes very still. He slowly lowers the weights back onto the rest, wriggles out from underneath and sits up, eyes on Tony.

“You fucking  _ what? _ ” Tony says incredulously. “Oh my god, Barnes, you-”

“What’s happened?” Steve asks urgently, because if Tony is talking to Bucky and someone has been arrested then that means Clint and oh my god  _ they’ve got Arto _ .

“Barton has been arrested, there’s been an incident,” Tony says in utter disbelief, before turning his attention back to the call. “Where are you? Barnes, it is not fine, you have my child and you’ve been in an incident, I am going to kick your ass-”

He rants in the phone all the way down to the basement garage. Steve feels sick, stomach all twisted up and churning, filled with the need to get to Arto  _ now _ .

* * *

 

 

When they arrive, screeching up to the police cordon and abandoning the car, they find that yes, Clint has been arrested. He’s cuffed and in the back of a police car, and hastily ducks down out of sight when he sees Steve and Tony striding up.

Arto is also in the back of a patrol car. Though he has an ice cream in hand and is playing with the radio and looking absolutely delighted. Bucky is leaning against the door, arms folded across his chest as he stands on guard. Arto spots them first and waves happily as Steve and Tony walk up.  

“Why,” Tony says, coming to a halt next to the car and staring at Arto through the window. “Is my child in the back of a patrol car.”

“Safest place to shut him in,” Bucky shrugs, and holds out a pacifying hand towards Steve. “Before you flip your lid, hear me out.”

It turns out that Clint was arrested because he’d tackled a man to the ground; a man who was about to pull a gun on an ambassador right outside the Sokovian embassy. In the confusion - and despite his protests that he was an Avenger - Clint had been arrested along with the culprit.

“Clint beat up the bad guy,” Arto says matter-of-factly, leaning out of the open window. Ice cream drips steadily over his knuckles and onto the sidewalk. “He’s a superhero.”

“Oh my god,” Steve replies, and then reaches forwards and slots his hands under Arto’s arms, pulling him out of the car through the window. Arto shouts with laughter, clinging tightly onto Steve as Steve sets him in his usual spot on his hip. He winces as ice-cream covered hands leave sticky prints over his white tee, though compared to the interior of the patrol car, he seems to have gotten off lightly. He hopes the officers like triple chocolate.

“Are you okay?” Tony is asking Arto, who is nodding and licking chocolate from his fingers. “Arto, seriously. Are you okay?”

“Clint beat up the bad guy,” Arto says easily. “Bucky hid me.”

Steve and Tony turn to look at Bucky as one. He just shrugs, looking unconcerned. “Barton went for the guy, I grabbed the kid and ran in the opposite direction.”

“Yeah, with your nasty arm,” Arto says, fixing Bucky with an accusatory glare.

“Hey,” Tony interjects. “Bucky and his arm made sure you were  _ safe _ ,” he says. “Drop the attitude.”

Arto’s response to that is to promptly turn away, burying his ice-cream covered face in Steve’s shoulder. Bucky just rolls his eyes.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “Now if you excuse me, I’m going to go have a  _ word  _ with Clint.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, somewhere between a warning and a plea for  _ no more violence, come on. _

“The plan is always  _ I _ do the fighting,  _ he _ takes the kid and runs,” Bucky says tightly. “But no, dumbass runs at an armed lunatic like he’s invincible.”

“Well when you put it like that,” Steve says. “Shout away.”

Bucky marches off and Steve sighs. Tony turns to occupy Bucky’s vacated spot, leaning against the car and folding his arms in the exact same way.

“So, do we get mad about this? He did stop an assassination.”

“He got arrested while looking after our child.”

“Saved the day.”

“Ran at a man with a gun while he was supposed to be with Arto.”

“Prevented an international crisis.”

“I don’t know, alright?” Steve says. “What would we have done?”

“Exactly the same,” Tony says. “Or we both would have grabbed Arto and run, and there’d be a dead Ambassador and the Avengers would be in trouble.”

“Okay,” Steve says. “No getting mad. But they’re never babysitting again.”

Arto lifts his head. “What? No!”

Tony shakes his head. “Vetoed,” he says firmly, and reaches out to take Arto from Steve, dropping him to the floor and taking his hand. “This hasn’t happened because they’re incompetent, this could have happened if we were looking after him. We’re Avengers, this shit - don’t you say that - is going to happen and when the shit happened, they did save the Ambassador and keep Arto safe. ”

“You do not get to make that call!” Steve shouts as Tony walks away, Arto hopping along at his side.

“Neither do you!” Tony shouts back. “I’m going to rescue Barton, go get the car.”

Steve clenches his jaw, and takes his turn at folding his arms across his chest, feeling disgruntled. It’s only knowledge that Tony will call him an overprotective helicopter mom in front of  _ everyone _ that stops him marching after him and picking Arto up, tossing him over his shoulder and walking home with him.

There’s a throat clearing behind him and he turns to see a police officer looking at him a little nervously. “Excuse me, Captain Rogers, would you mind - hey, what the  _ hell _ happened to my car!?”

The officer yanks open the door to the car, making a series of increasingly angry exclamations as he leans in and takes in the carnage. Steve glances down at his incriminatingly ice-cream-covered shirt and curses under his breath.

* * *

 

 

Tony gets his way about the babysitting arrangements. And after he’s calmed down enough to think about it, Steve acknowledges that maybe what happened was more to do with international political disputes and bad timing, rather than Bucky and Clint’s Arto-watching abilities. And Tony also points out that if they stop Bucky and Clint taking Arto places, then it’s disadvantaging Arto and his language development, and means they’re back to never having any time without the kid glued to their side.

With Steve’s grudging approval, they continue take him to all his regular haunts. The park, the ice-cream parlour, the local pancake house. They even manage to take him to the zoo without incident.

The aquarium, however, is another story.

It’s Steve who gets the phone call this time around. He and Tony are in bed when it comes in, the buzzing of his phone disturbing the peace of their lazy afternoon. Yawning, Steve reaches for his phone and curiously eyes the unknown number before answering it.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Captain Rogers? Hi, this is Lieutenant Eversmann, NYPD. We’ve got some boys that belong to you here with us at the aquarium, you might want to come down.”

Steve blinks, not quite processing. “What?” he says, and then his brain engages and he sits bolt upright, knocking an already precariously positioned pillow off the edge of the bed. “You’ve got - Arto? What’s happened? Who have you arrested?”

Tony’s jaw drops in disbelief. He lifts his head, craning his neck up. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No-one, no-one,” the officer hastily assures him. “No arrests, just. Uh, there’s been an incident. I think you and Stark are going to need to smooth this over.”

“Is everyone okay?” Steve demands, clambering out of the bed, Tony just behind him. “Where are they?”

“They’re okay, everyone is fine. Just a little wet.”

“ _ What? _ ”

 

* * *

When they arrive at the aquarium, they find the the entire placed closed. Disgruntled tourists mill around outside, and a couple of police cars are parked out front. An officer runs to meet them, ushering them inside. Everything seems normal - albeit quiet - until they reach the third floor. They can hear voices just around the corner and the place looks like it’s been flooded.

Tony starts to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” Steve says as he steps onto the sodden carpet. It squelches beneath his sneakers, and the sharp tang of salt fills his nostrils.

“It kind of is,” Tony says, pulling his sunglasses off and grinning at Steve. “Now we easily win the ‘no you’re not having a fish-tank’ argument.”

They round the corner to see Bucky, Clint and Arto sitting side by side on a bench, all soaked to the skin. They’ve got blankets around their shoulders; Bucky is shirtless underneath his and is looking quietly amused. Clint is holding an ice-pack to the side of his face, and is being fussed over by a member of the aquarium staff. Several security guards are also present, as well as two more police officers.

As always, Arto spots them first. “Steve!” he shouts, and then shrinks back, eyes darting guiltily between Tony and Steve. “Didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”

What Arto didn’t mean to do is glaringly obvious. The tall cylindrical tank in the middle of the room has a gaping hole up towards the top, the jagged glass edge glinting in the light. Below the break, the tank is still full of water and several idly bobbing jellyfish.

“Oh my god,” Steve says, grinding to a halt. “You didn’t.”

“He did,” Tony says, carrying on walking. “What did the jellyfish ever do to you, Art?”

Tony reaches Arto and Arto immediately scrambles for him, flinging arms around Tony’s waist and burying his face in Tony’s hip.

“Uh, so,” one of the aquarium staff says to Steve, gesturing helplessly to the tank. “Your kid broke the tank.”

To Steve’s surprise, it’s Bucky who starts sniggering. Clint rounds on him and Bucky descends into choking laughter.

“It’s not funny!” Clint yells, smacking Bucky’s shoulder with the back of his hand.

“Oh man,” Bucky says, leaning forwards and laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking. “It was the funniest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen.”

“What happened?” Steve asks. “Clint, did you get stung?”

“He had a jellyfish on his face,” Arto says. “He screamed and he dropped me and ran around.”

Bucky just laughs even harder. Tony starts to laugh too and even Steve can’t keep a straight face for long.

“Fuck you guys,” Clint grumbles. “I did not  _ scream _ .”

“I was on his shoulders,” Arto tells Tony, resting his chin on his belt and looking up at him. Tony just keeps laughing, fondly stroking Arto’s wet hair back from his forehead. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Excuse me?” An uncertain voice says from behind them. It belongs to a harried looking gentleman in a suit, his jacket draped over his arm. “Gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt but we do have to discuss-”

“Paying for the fish tank, yup,” Tony says, still looking down at Arto. “You are a very expensive brat to keep.”

Arto just blinks up at him. “Sorry?”

Bucky wipes his eyes with his metal fingers, still chuckling. “Like you can stay mad at that face, Stark,” he says, and then glances at Clint and descends into full on laughter again. Clint elbows him again, looking more put out than ever.

Steve just shakes his head, holding out a hand for Arto as Tony tries to extricate his wallet from his pocket while Arto is clinging around his middle. Arto comes willingly, pulling at Steve’s shirt until Steve obliges and picks him up, settling him on his shoulders.

“Careful,” Tony says as he walks by, next to a member of staff from the aquarium who is holding Tony’s credit card and looking at it in awe. “He might break something else and you’ll end up with a shark on your face.”

“Sharks?!” Arto gasps, heels kicking against Steve’s chest. “Can we see sharks?!”

“No. Time to go,” Steve says, and ignores Arto’s whine and dramatic slump backwards. Bucky helpfully steps up behind him and pushes Arto forwards again, so he’s slumped over Steve’s head instead. “Come on, guys. Uh, sorry about the tank.”

He waves one-handedly at the aquarium staff who are all watching him with wide eyes, still looking a little shellshocked. A couple of them have the wherewithal to wave as Arto shouts goodbye, and one casually pulls his phone out to snap a picture as they leave.

* * *

 

 

Steve doesn’t kick up a fuss about the aquarium incident. Not much, anyway. He does have a casual conversation with Clint and Bucky where he casually asks  _ whose fucking idea it was to let Arto bang on a glass tank full of jellyfish? _ He also casually inquires into what they would have done if Arto had been stung or drowned, and doesn’t really get an answer that he considers satisfactory.

Clint looks utterly crestfallen and tries to hide it. Bucky immediately jumps to Clint’s defense and tells Steve to lay off, that Tony encourages Arto to bang on windows to annoy people so it’s probably all  _ his _ fault. Steve sees red, and maybe tells Bucky he’ll put  _ him _ through a window.

Before Bucky and Steve decide to settle it through an actual fistfight, Tony once again is forced to be the voice of reason. Steve and Bucky apologise like surly teenagers, and Clint is reassured that it’s not his fault in the slightest, just maybe don’t let Arto bang on glass tanks containing thousands of litres of seawater and poisonous invertebrates in the future.

Everyone goes their separate ways to cool their heels, and when Arto wakes everyone up at four AM the next morning because he heard a bird outside, everyone is back to getting along just fine.

 

* * *

The tipping point for Steve turns out to be the day that Bucky, Clint and Natasha take Arto out to Coney Island. There are many jokes about putting the kid on the Cyclone, about feeding him on nothing but cotton candy, about letting him have the run of the park. Steve easily and happily brushes it all off, lets Arto go without any reservations, giving him a hug and kissing him goodbye as they pile into the car. (Natasha is driving. Steve has added her to the list of acceptable Arto-chauffeurs, as long as she doesn’t  _ ever _ attempt to do that thing that she did in Paris while Arto is in the car. She just rolls her eyes and says that Arto would probably find it fun. Steve makes it quite clear that he doesn’t give a shit that Arto would find it fun, she’s not to do it  _ ever. _ )

It’s a quiet but pleasant day without Arto, and Steve finds himself guiltily enjoying it. He goes for a long lunch with Tony before Tony jets off to a meeting with investors in Chicago, and then has a meeting with Maria Hill which he surprisingly leaves feeling pretty positive about. After that it’s a short bike-ride home and he has an hour to himself, just to sit and relax, to listen to his music and idly sketch.

Until Bucky calls him, sounding tense and strained.

“What’s happened?” Steve asks, sitting up. His sketchbook falls to the floor; his pencil rolls away unnoticed.

“He’s okay,” Bucky says immediately. “But he’s upset, and he’s refusing to move, which is slightly problematic as he’s under the fuckin’ Wonder Wheel. They’ve closed it for now-”

Steve’s good mood vanishes in the blink of an eye. “Are you actually fucking kidding me? What’s happened?”

“He’s been sick,” Bucky says. “He’s freaked out - do you want me to get him out and bring him home?”

“Shit,” Steve says, getting up. “No, Bucky, don’t. He’ll have a meltdown if you try and make him move, and you’re in public-”

“Yeah, I  _ know _ ,” Bucky says emphatically. “Hence the calling you.”

“I’m on the way,” Steve says, going straight into mission mode. He grabs his keys and his sneakers, striding towards the door. “Do not call Tony.”

“Well, about that,” Bucky says, sounding uneasy. “I think the paps have got a picture of him. So if there’s a one in a billion chance that Tony isn’t connected to the internet, and doesn’t still have the Arto web-alert running through Jarvis-”

“Fuck,” Steve says, rapidly rethinking. “Call Tony. I’m on the way.”

* * *

 

 

When he gets there, there’s quite a crowd formed around the bottom of the Ferris Wheel. Even though he’s two seconds away from losing his mind, he strides across without running or shoving anyone out of the way, holding tightly onto his helmet and his keys. He’s not even bothered with his usual sunglasses and cap, and people on all sides are recognizing him.

He sees Natasha first; she’s waiting for him on the outskirts of the crowd, looking quiet and serious. She says nothing, just turns and leads him to where the police and Clint have formed a temporary perimeter, turning curious onlookers away. Clint is looking like he’s about ready to start throwing punches and determinedly doesn’t look up at Steve as he passes. Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

He finds him on the other side of the barrier, crouched down next to the edge of the metal platform on which the wheel sits. Steve drops down next to him, and his heart clenches painfully as he spots Arto curled up underneath in an impossibly tiny gap. His face is buried in his knees, and his arms are wrapped tightly around his legs. It about breaks his heart; after the kidnapping last year he swore he’d never let Arto get hurt again, but here he is, alone and scared.

“Hey, Smart Art,” he says softly, setting his motorcycle helmet aside and leaning in, holding one hand out.

Arto turns his face and slowly, without any coercing or hesitation, he shifts and crawls out, climbing up into Steve’s arms. Steve stands up with him, and Arto immediately starts to cry.

“Hey, hey, I got you,” Steve says, keeping himself calm even though a large part of him wants to panic, because Arto is crying and everyone can see, and everyone will be judging him and wondering why the hell he’s let this happen.

“I sick,” Arto sobs into his neck.

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says ruefully, because the evidence is all over Arto and now all over him as well. Even as he hitches Arto up, it dawns on him. “You’ve never been sick before, huh?”

“No,” Arto cries. “I don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” Steve says, remembering all too well the awful feeling after being sick, the bad taste in your mouth, the shaking limbs that wouldn’t quite co-operate, the ache in your stomach that wouldn’t shift. “Come on. Home.”

He turns away, makes to clamber back over the fence. Bucky holds out a hand to him, looking distressed. “Steve.”

“No,” Steve bites out with a terse shake of his head, not wanting to hear it. “Just  _ don’t. _ ”

Bucky backs down, falling silent and nodding at the floor. He bends down to pick up Steve’s helmet and keys, and then follows Steve without another word.

“Nat, drive us home,” Steve says tightly, and she nods, face impassive. Clint still avoids his gaze, and slinks away with Bucky even though he’s not got a helmet of his own and is undoubtedly going to get on the back of the bike.

The police let them go without any hassle, and Steve soon finds himself in the back of the car with Arto curled up on his knee, unwilling to be put in his booster seat. Steve can’t quite bring himself to let him go either, and simply belts them both in.

“You know we didn’t mean to,” Natasha says carefully as she puts the car in drive.

“Of course I know you didn’t mean to,” Steve snaps back. His anger isn’t far enough away for him to be comfortable; he’s angry at Bucky, Clint and Nat for letting this happen, he’s angry at the paparazzi for taking pictures, he’s angry at himself for not being there. He should have been here, should have been Arto’s safe space to go when he was scared.

The buzzing of his phone in his pocket disturbs his thoughts. He pulls it out awkwardly from under an unyielding Arto, and sees that it’s Tony. He answers it, feeling almost afraid that Tony will say the things he’s been thinking, that he’s let Arto down and that he’s messed up.

“Hey.”

“Have you got him?” he asks immediately.

“Yeah, I got him,” Steve says, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“TMZ have a picture of our child crying, covered in puke and making a run for it. Lots of comments about us being terrible parents, lots of asking where you are.”

Steve covers his eyes with his hand, rubbing at his face. “Kinda guessed that was going to happen.”

“I’m coming home,” Tony says, and Steve doesn’t even have it in him to argue. He wants Tony back.

“Okay, Tony.”                                           

“How was he even sick? He’s not big enough to get on the damn Cyclone.”

“Good question,” Steve says, and looks up, phone still held to his ear. “Nat? What did you guys do to Arto to make him sick?”

“Fed him too much junk food and let him get over-excited,” Natasha replies, eyes fixed on the road ahead. “He said he felt fine.”

“He’s seven, of course he’s going to say he’s fine if you’re feeding him junk!”

Arto starts to cry again and Tony is quick to tell Steve to calm down, that he’ll deal with it when he’s home. He very grudgingly bites his tongue, anger simmering away as the car crawls its way through rush-hour traffic back towards the tower.

* * *

 

 

By the time Tony returns home, Arto is tucked up in bed, Pepper is there trying to get Steve to come up with a statement if he’s really so bothered about what the gossip rags are saying, and Bucky, Nat and Clint are nowhere to be found.

“I told them they’re not taking him out again,” Steve says. “And I’m not discussing it.”

He turns away from Tony’s troubled expression, because he knows Tony is torn between agreeing and telling him that he’s being ridiculous.  _ He’s _ torn between thinking he’s doing the right thing and being ridiculous.

But then he remembers Arto’s small, scared face hiding under the Ferris wheel, and it strengthens his resolve to never let Arto out of his sight again.

* * *

 

 

“Steve,” Arto yawns one evening, blinking sleepily as he pulls his pajama top on, hair ruffled and sticking up every which way, damp and smelling of bubble bath.

“Yes?” Steve asks as he drains the tub, fishing out the various pieces of lego that are at the bottom.

He feels a small weight slump against his back, arms dangling over his shoulders. “Do you trust Clint?”

Steve goes still for a moment, and then resumes rescuing the lego. “Yes. Why?”

“No,” Arto says with a sigh, and Steve turns to look at him over his shoulder.

“Tell me why you’re asking,” he says, and Arto shakes his head, turns his own face away from Steve’s. Steve frowns. “Arto.”

“If I tell you, don’t shout,” Arto says after a pause.

“I never shout,” Steve says, and Arto pulls a face at him.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

“Okay, I won’t shout,” Steve says. “Promise.”

“Tony told Bucky you didn’t trust Clint.”

And Steve’s heart breaks a little, because he knows exactly why that’s been said. And he really, really wishes that Tony would check for tiny eavesdroppers before having conversations like that.

“Well,” Steve says, and then decides to take the somewhat less than honorable route out of the conversation. “Never mind what was said. Bedtime.”

Arto pulls a face and grouches and whines, and Steve resigns himself for a long night.

* * *

 

 

Bucky also challenges Steve on his resolution regarding Arto. He confronts him one morning, blocking his path to the coffee machine with a  _ ‘I am not moving, I will out-stubborn you Rogers I swear to god _ ’ expression firmly in place. “You can’t tell me that nothing would ever happen to the kid on your watch,” he says. “You’ve got to trust Clint-”

Steve makes an impatient noise. He wants coffee and Tony definitely needs coffee and he’s made his feelings on this particular subject very clear. “I do trust Clint.”

“Okay, let him take the kid to the park.”

At once, Steve imagines Arto alone in the park, crying and scared and looking for Steve. He shakes his head, trying to banish the image. “Bucky – just drop it will you?”

“Fine. But this stupid over-protective quest of yours is not good for you, is not good for Clint and is not good for the kid, and it’s going to bite you in the ass one way or another.”

“I fucking said  _ drop it. _ ”

Bucky does. Though most annoyingly, he turns out to be right.

* * *

 

 

“Can I go and look, can I go and look, can I go and look?!”

Bouncing on his heels, Arto looks between Tony and Steve, practically vibrating with excitement. It’s his first time in an arcade - and it’s not even a real one, just a small add-on to the chain restaurant they were forced to pull over into when Arto started whining he was hungry about an hour ago. Tony looks at Arto and then at Steve, expression deadly serious. “Steve. I think maybe Arto wants to go and look at something.”

Steve’s mouth quirks up in a grin as he sits back, leaning on the brightly painted bench with his coffee in hand. “No, I think he’s fine here.”

“ _ Steve! _ ”

Tony laughs and grins at Arto. “Go on then, Smart Art. But remember-”

“No banging on the glass,” Arto says promptly, and the dashes the short distance to the other side of the arcade, pressing his face to the glass of the grabber machine and bouncing up and down on his feet as he watches the crane arm wobble back and forth.

“Straight for the robot,” Steve sighs.

“The boy has good taste,” Tony says and leans over to take Steve’s coffee. “Give him a couple of minutes and then I’ll round him up.”

Steve nods in agreement; the arcade isn’t too busy and it’s bright and smells of cotton candy and Arto is having what he says is the ‘best day ever.’ Though he also had the ‘best day ever’ when Clint let him have dinner in the bath the other day, so it’s not really a reliable scale.

“You got any cash on you?” Tony asks. “He’s going to ask to have a go, you know he is.”

“Yeah, probably,” Steve says. “Why are you asking me, you’re the millionaire here.”

“Billionaire,” Tony corrects. “Who has an AmEx and a Stark industries account card, neither of which will go into arcade games. I’ve tried before.”

“Do I want to know that story?” Steve asks, sitting up and digging his hand into his pocket. He twists around. “Check my jacket will you?”

“This is when we need Barton. He always has change,” Tony says, delving through Steve’s pockets. “I guess I could just hotwire the machine-”

“You are not hotwiring an arcade machine.”

“Well, you’re no fun.”

Steve’s retort is cut off as there’s an unholy shriek of laughter from nearby. He looks up in alarm, which only grows as he sees a gaggle of people around the arcade machine where Arto was a moment ago.

He’s on his feet in seconds, Tony just behind him. Heart in his mouth, he runs over to find out what has happened-

“Oh,  _ shit. _ ”

Arto is inside the grabber machine. Actually inside, sitting atop a pile of soft toys and systematically sorting through them. The kids on the right side of the glass are laughing hysterically, and the adults with them are looking around, presumably for Arto’s owner.

“Oh, hell,” Tony says, and he’s fighting back laughter, Steve can tell. “Arto, that’s cheating!”

“Is this kid yours?” a man asks, and Steve grimaces and nods, reaching forwards to knock on the glass with his knuckles. Arto looks up happily, brandishing a stuffed tiger at Steve.

“Look!”

“How did you get in there?” Steve asks in disbelief.

“Climbed,” Arto says, pointing at the chute through which the prizes are dropped. “I small, I fit.”

“Oh my god, get out,” Tony says, voice shaking with laughter. “Arto, get out.”

Arto shakes his head, mouth turning down and expression turning mulish. “No.”

“Arto, come on,” Steve says, somewhat urgently. “You’re not meant to be in there.”

Arto replies by dropping the tiger out of the chute. And then a stuffed minion toy, followed by a rather misshapen seal.

“No,” he says as he drops each toy through the chute. “No, no, no.”

Security are called. The owner of the restaurant shows up. A police officer also joins the party. Steve and Tony try bribing, coercing and blackmailing Arto into getting out of the machine, each attempt as unsuccessful as the last. The pile of toys on the floor outside of the machine grows, with Arto pushing them down and out the chute when it gets full. Other children are finding the entire thing hilarious, grabbing their parents’ hands and dragging them over to see.

And of course they get recognised. And of course people start taking photos. Someone starts filming on their phone as well.

“Arto, I swear to god,” Steve says, voice low as he clings to the very last shred of his patience. “You need to get out.”

“No,” Arto says, standing in the now mostly empty machine. “No, you never let me do anything.”

Steve rears back. “Excuse you?”

“You never let me do anything with anyone!” Arto shouts at him, and drops to sit down, bursting into tears and clutching the crocodile toy he’s become rather taken with. “I don’t care, you say I’m grounded and I never see anyone anyway!”

“Arto-”

“Fuck off!” Arto screams at him, burying his face in the toy.

“Oh wow,” Tony says, sounding strained. “This, I didn’t see coming.”

“I didn’t know he was-” Steve begins, and rubs at his face. “Fine,” he says to Arto. “Okay. You really want me to fuck off, and I will. I’ll go home right now and see you later. But if you’re just saying it because you’re mad, you need to get out of the damn machine and give me a hug and let me fix it.”

Arto moves immediately. He stands up and clambers into the chute, crawling out of the machine and letting Steve sweep him up.  There’s a cheer from the onlookers and Arto hides his face in Steve’s shoulder.

“Okay, show's over,” Tony says. He pulls out a card and hands it to the owner of the arcade, who is looking relieved. “Call that number and bill me for the crocodile.”

He nods at the security guards and ushers Steve and Arto from the building, still looking like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

* * *

 

 

Clint and Bucky are waiting for them in the communal kitchen  when they get home. Standing shoulder to shoulder with arms folded, looking at Steve with raised eyebrows. There’s a wicked grin dancing on the edge of Bucky’s mouth that just screams  _ I told you so.  _ He lifts his phone, which of course is lit up with a photo of Arto inside the  machine, brandishing a bear above his head.

“Alright,” Steve says wearily, passing a sleeping Arto over to Tony and turning to meet his comeuppance face on. “Out with it.”

Bucky and Clint look at each other, then look at Tony and watch him leave with Arto, waiting patiently until the elevator doors slide closed-

“You got your kid stuck in a claw machine!”

“At least he never told anyone to fuck off on our watch.”

“Your lack of supervision is astounding, Steve. A  _ claw machine. _ ”

“All of our fuck ups were accidental. By the looks of things, he was just being a shit to you today.”

Steve holds up a hand to make them stop, sinking down onto a stool at the counter. “Alright, alright,” he protests. “Okay.” 

He hears footsteps and the soft screech of two more chairs being pulled out.

“Okay,” Bucky repeats, prodding. “Okay, what?”

“I was wrong,” Steve sighs, looking up at two expectant faces. “I was over-protective and stubborn and you can have him tomorrow because I swear if he pulls a stunt like that again I’ll lose it.”

“Oh,  _ now _ you want us to have him,” Clint says, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. “Now he’s being difficult.”

“I-” Steve begins, and then sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says to Clint. “I mean it. I do trust you with him, I’m just-”

“Overprotective helicopter Mom?” Bucky suggests and Steve doesn’t even have it in him to argue.

“Yeah, that.”

“Okay,” Clint grins at Steve, and he knows that they’re okay. “Ice-cream for breakfast tomorrow?”

“No,” Steve says firmly. “He’s grounded until Tuesday. And then you can take him out.”

“Until Tuesday?” Clint asks, dismayed on Arto’s behalf.

Steve pulls a face. “If I had my way, he’d be grounded until he was sixteen.”

Clint concedes the point. “Okay,” he says. “Tuesday.”

The room is silent for a moment, and then Steve hears Bucky take a breath.

“Don’t say it-”

“I told you so.”

* * *

 

 

Summer is definitely in the air. It’s warm, New York warm, making everything over-saturated and lazy. The park smells of tarmac, fresh cut grass and very faintly of over-warm garbage. Happy voices carry on the air, audible over the rumble and murmur of never-ceasing traffic.

Even Steve has slowed down today, his regular pace reduced to a lazy meander, ice cream in one hand and Tony in the other. He’s just left a board meeting, wearing slacks and a battered Star Wars T-shirt, his jacket tossed over Steve’s shoulder.  

“So I just need to go out to Japan for a few days to see about the issues with the imports, and then the project will be back on track,” Tony says. “You’ll barely notice I’m gone.”

Steve nudges Tony with his elbow, hard enough so that Tony has to sidestep off the path and onto the grass of the park. He laughs as Steve reels him back in onto the path by their joined hands. 

“What?”

“Your ego doesn’t need me to tell it I miss you every night you’re gone,” Steve says with a shrug, and it’s worth being honest for the way Tony smiles.

“Likewise,” he says, and snags the neck of Steve’s shirt in his hand so he can pull him in and kiss him.

“Paparazzi,” Steve murmurs.

“Fuck it,” Tony says. “They’ve got a thousand pictures of us by now. One more won’t amount to much. Besides, gotta do something to counter the post Coney Island break-up rumors.”

“I guess you’re right,” Steve says, and stops so he can slide an arm around Tony’s waist, pulling him in and kissing him hard. Tony’s hands come up to hold onto his shoulders, hands sure and strong.

“Wow, PDA,” Tony says as Steve pulls away. “You shock me, mister pillar of uncompromising morals.”

“You started it,” Steve says, but does let go of Tony so they can carry on walking. “You want to get a cab home?”

“No,” Tony says, reaching for Steve’s ice-cream, taking it and licking off a swirl in a way that Steve is pretty sure should be banned in public. “I want to walk through the park, buy a cheeseburger and then go for dinner.”

“Cheeseburgers and dinner?”

“They’ll let me take my cheeseburger in if I tip big enough, right?”

Steve laughs. “How about we go get cheeseburgers and then go home? Then you can finish the upgrade for the bio-scanner.”

Tony beams. “And this is why I love you. You know exactly what I want.”

“Entirely selfish,” Steve says. “You’ve been muttering about the damn thing in your sleep.”

“Well, in my defence-”

Tony stops talking and walking, slowly coming to a halt. Steve turns to him, questioning, and sees that Tony is looking at something over his shoulder. He tenses and turns around, eyes scanning the expanse of green behind them, and he quickly spots what has drawn Tony’s attention.

_ Arto. _

Way over on the other side of the park, running around in circles with Clint on his tail, screaming with laughter as he’s picked up and thrown over a shoulder. His small face is red and breathless with delight, and his laughter can just about be heard. Bucky is there too, sitting nearby with crossed legs; Omari is sitting in his lap and watching Arto, smiling widely. The sun shines off his scales and Bucky’s metal arm alike, glinting like a beacon in the middle of the park.

Before he even realises he’s moved, Steve takes a step towards them. Something makes him still though, as he watches Clint drop to the ground to sit beside Bucky, depositing Arto on the grass next to him. He reaches for his backpack and pulls out two juice boxes, handing them off to Arto and Omari,  saying something to Bucky that makes him laugh, head thrown back and eyes closed, mouth wide and happy.

Steve watches, a lump in his throat as Omari slides off of Bucky’s knee and crawls over to Arto. Arto immediately starts jabbering at him, gesturing widely with his hands and probably getting juice everywhere. Omari nods and then suddenly leans back, pointing at something in the grass, which has Arto gasping in delight and frantically calling Clint over. Clint crouches next to the boys, Arto leaning heavily onto his shoulder.

“You wanna go over?” Tony asks. His hand comes to rest on Steve’s hip, warm and comforting.

Steve watches as Arto and Omari chatter, fully absorbed in whatever beastie has undoubtedly been found in the grass. God, he wants to. He wants to go over, and he doesn’t doubt that Arto will be thrilled to see them, but something is holding him back.

He owes both Arto and Clint a show of trust, and a decent amount of respect that he had been somewhat lacking in. And as hard as it is to accept - Arto is having a great time without him there, and that’s how it needs to be. He can’t grow up thinking that he’s only safe and happy at Steve’s side. Bucky was right, dammit. That’s wouldn’t be good for him.

Even as he stands there, torn, his attention is drawn by movement from Bucky; he straightens up and casually lifts a hand in a thumbs up signal, before glancing briefly over towards where Steve and Tony stand.

“And of course he’s seen us,” Tony says with a huff of laughter, and steps off the path. “Come on.”

Steve reaches out and catches Tony’s hand, stopping him. Tony looks at him inquiringly, and Steve takes a deep breath, holding it for a second before letting it go in a rush.

“They got this,” he says, ducking his head and moving away, pulling him along the path. “Let’s go get those cheeseburgers you wanted.”

Tony smiles at him. “You sure?”

“I know he needs me,” Steve says. “Just...not every second of every day.”

He feels a little like his heart is breaking. But he knows that’s his issue, and one he’s going to have to overcome, no matter how much it hurts. 

“Hey,” Tony says gently, sensing his turbulent emotions. “You might not be next to him every second of every day, but he knows you’re there for him. He trusts you to show up whenever he needs.”

It’s a band-aid over a raw wound, but it’s a start and it helps. Steve nods down at his feet and then looks up. 

“Okay. So, cheeseburgers, home and work?”

Tony hums, falling into step beside Steve as they carry on. “Cheeseburgers, home, sex then work?”

Steve laughs, and pulls him in for a kiss. “You’re on.”  
  



End file.
